Empty Nest Syndrome
by Regency
Summary: Once they return to Manchester, Jed and Abbey suffer from a case of Empty Nest Syndrome. Jed/Abbey.


Author: Regency

Title: Empty Nest Syndrome

Pairing: Jed/Abbey

Rating: G

Spoilers: Let's say the entire final season.

Word count: 1,355

Summary: Once they return to Manchester, Jed and Abbey suffer from a case of Empty Nest Syndrome.

Author's Notes: Found this on the hard drive from a few years ago. Thought you might be interested.

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters recognizable as being from _The West Wing_. They are the property of their respective producers, writers, and studios, not me. No copyright infringement was intended and no money was made in the writing or distribution of this story. It was good, clean fun.

~!~

"Well, this is great," Jed said to no one in particular.

Abbey heard him from the other room. "What?" She came out to the hallway from where she was making their bed for nearly the first time in eight years.

"This," he gestured with both hands to the quiet area downstairs.

She reached up and laid her hand against his cheek. "Are you feeling all right?"

He gently pulled her hand down and smiled at her adoringly. "I'm fine." His expression saddened a little. "It's just…I've realized just now how empty the house is. Our girls have grown up and have or are about to have families of their own. They don't need us."

"Oh, babe, they'll always need us. The children in them will always want the comfort of knowing we're here."

He sighed, conceding to her logic. "I know. I think I miss the noise of little girls filling the house with their chatter about boys and makeup and secrets they thought I'd never hear. Now, they're gonna have homes of their own, loud with the pitter-patter of babies and preteens reciting bad poetry about life's unfairness."

Abbey wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. "Just say the word, I can dig up some of the stuff Zoey wrote in high school."

He chucked wryly. "God, no. The last things I want to read are momentarily loving descriptions of Zoey's bi-weekly boyfriends that inevitably deteriorate into hateful recriminations about what Sheila said Dane did and whom it was he did it with. Let's not even start on her constant ambition to leave the house without our knowing and my unquestionable villainy at grounding her ass when we caught her crawling out of the hall window."

"You're thinking of her diary. I'm talking about her poetry."

He stopped to recollect on the difference. "They're both angst, except one of them is in stanzas of rhyme."

She slapped his arm. "Give her more credit than that. Some of it was pretty good."

"Liar." Abbey refused to elaborate further and kicked at a hump in the hall rug. A smile spread across his face, "I thought so."

She pinched his love handles and grinned when he yelped in surprise. "That's what you get," she smirked. "Seriously, I can get the journal from the attic."

"No, really, I'm good. Besides, we save your voice for the good stuff."

This piqued her curiosity. "Such as?" she queried.

"Such as Shakespeare, Dickens, and Thoreau. Only the best."

"Glad I could be of service."

"The pleasure's all mine." He rubbed his jaw, thoughtfully, still looking around. He was finally beginning to mourn the years. "Do you think they get it? This home we shared isn't the same home. Am I crazy?"

"No," Abbey answered sympathetically. "Liz is already about to lose Annie to college. She understands what we're going through. Ellie will someday."

"Liz still has Gus. Ellie has years," he finished with a note of envy.

"Yes, and we have each other. Isn't that enough?" 

He dropped a kiss on her forehead and took a deep breath. "It's more than enough. God knows you're more than enough." They walked past their bedroom and single-file down the narrow staircase. When they reached the landing, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and held her close to his side. "There are so many memories here."

"Oh, yes." They stepped into the sitting room and paused in front of the fireplace. She had to laugh at the oval-shaped rug on the floor. "You remember when we made love here our first night in the house?"

"Mmm, yeah. And you had a fit about the floor being too cold."

"And hard," she added quickly.

"So, I let you sleep on top of me."

"Probably the best night sleep I've ever had."

"Me, too." He reached up to brush the hair from her eyes. "I've always slept better with you nearby."

She touched his chest. "Expect better sleep from now on."

"I do." He covered her hand with his. "I expect the dreams of kings."

"And queens," she returned.

"Could be fun."

She kissed his cheek softly and whispered in his ear, "Though I must say, you may want to stay awake once you find out exactly what I have in mind for your next ten years."

That piqued Jed's interest considerably. "What?"

She guided him by the hand to couch and sat him down beside her. She shimmied up close to him and let him wrap her in his arms. For a few minutes, she enjoyed the solace. She didn't hear anyone knocking on doors to take him from her or busy kids with places to go and parents to bother. However, what she did begin to sense was Jed becoming impatient. He didn't fidget or make any noise. It was just a sense she had about him that was confirmed when she looked up to see the curiosity in his eyes. Yes, he enjoyed holding her, but he more so cared to have his inquisitive nature satisfied. At least, at the moment.

"You really wanna know?"

"I do."

"Okay. Well, I had planned for us a trip to Rome so we could visit the Sistine Chapel."

He furrowed his brow in confusion. "But we visited the Sistine Chapel with the girls in '87."

"I know, but it never hurts to see it again," she rubbed his thigh provocatively, "with just the two of us."

Realization dawned on his face quickly. "Oh. Sounds like a great idea to me. When do we go?"

"We don't." She reacted quickly to his crestfallen look. "At the very least, not now. Something else that I thought might interest you has come up."

He leaned slightly forward in anticipation. "What?"

"I read that there was going to be a symposium on funding to third-world nations and its necessity, as well as the importance of providing free or low-cost medical aid to those countries. It was to be around the same time as the trip and when you were invited, I decided it was the better option."

"You really decided that or is that what you thought I'd want?"

She brushed an imaginary piece of lint from his collar. "A little bit of both. When they invited you, I knew you'd want to go and the more I researched it, the more interested I became myself. I wanted this. I'm done doing things I don't want to do."

"So am I. I find doing things that make you unhappy to be a very lonely experience."

She chuckled in bemusement. "I bet you have."

"Abigail, it's quite possible you've got me by a string."

She pursed her lips, eyes set thoughtfully on the floor rug. "And do I play you well or do I play you?"

"You've got me like Beethoven had the piano." He followed her line of vision and began to also stare contemplatively at the spot.

"I'm on fire."

"Mmhmm." Without taking his eyes off the intricately woven patterns, he asked her, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Depends on what you're thinking." She squeezed his knee gently

"I'm thinking I'm too old for this."

She smacked his chest and rolled her eyes, her mood pretty well killed. "I _was_ thinking, this is how we ended up with Ellie."

"And look how well that turned out."

She turned her eyes to the mantle and to the long row of framed photos that lined it. So many happy faces, so many happy times. This was her life. "Yeah, look."

He did and his face lit up with each one. All his princesses had been daddy's girl once. They would always be. "They're gone now. They don't need me."

"I do."

He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed them. "And I need you."

Feeling herself getting choked up, she stood. "What do you say we relive some good times?"

He stood up after her, not yet letting go. "I have a better idea. Let's create some great ones."

She smiled lovingly and told him, "I love the way you think."


End file.
